


Because I Can

by brianna441



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Alternate Universes, M/M, None - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 09:52:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,510
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796936
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianna441/pseuds/brianna441
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A rodeo story</p>
            </blockquote>





	Because I Can

## Because I Can

#### by Shamaness

  
I've considered filing adoption papers but that would make me their Mom and I'm not exactly having Mom-like thoughts about them, if you know what I mean  
Thanks to brianna441 for posting this (any a few other stories) to the archive for me. She's a pal! Good, bad or indifferent, comments can be sent to Shamaness@aol.com  
  
This story is a sequel to: none

* * *

Because I Can  
by Shamaness 

The cowboy rested his arms atop the rail surrounding the enclosure, his eyes taking in this unfamiliar venue. The show was not scheduled to begin for another two hours and the stands surrounding the ring were still empty. Soon he would put on his chaps and flack jacket, pull on his gloves and find out which bull he had drawn. But for now, he was enjoying the peace of the almost empty arena. 

At the moment the bullfighters, the men the spectators would call 'rodeo clowns', were walking the enclosed area, checking fences, searching the ground, looking for hidden dangers. When your job was to distract two thousand pounds of angry bull, the last thing you needed was to trip over a hidden rock or run into the sharp corner of a badly placed rail. 

His eyes followed the inspection as his mind wandered over the events that brought him to this place. Since getting out of the Army five years ago he'd been riding the rodeo circuit in the Southwest. But, after much coaxing, his best friend convinced him to move north to Canada. 

'Canada! You've got to be kidding! What do Canadians know about rodeo?' 

'Can you say 'Calgary Stampede'?' 

He chuckled as he remembered that conversation, embarrassed at his then naivete. He now knew that some of the best ropers, wranglers and riders called this region home. So here he stood, just hours before his first Canadian competition, hoping he was good enough to measure up to these guys. 

A splash of color caught his eye as he saw another bullfighter enter the arena, to the shouts and cheers of the others. Dressed in a bright red shirt, huge white pants and blue suspenders, this new entrant looked tiny and almost out of place. He was quickly surrounded by the larger, similarly dressed men. 

'He can't be more than a kid.' the cowboy thought. 

But the greeting this 'kid' received surprised the cowboy. Some offered a cautious hand, their manner one of awe. There were gentle pats on the shoulder, little nudges on the arm, all accompanied by big smiles and kind words. Without any effort, his acute hearing pick up the greetings. 

"Welcome back, kid." 

"It's an honor to meet you." 

"Good to see you." 

The cowboy couldn't help but wonder 'Who the hell is this kid?' 

"Jim!" 

Jim Ellison turned at the sound of his name to see his best friend, Simon Banks, strolling his way. He admired the man's strong rolling gait, his limp noticeable only to Jim's enhanced sight. The tall, lean black man would have looked right at home in a three-piece suit. But, Jim had to admit, he looked damn fine in those tight fitting jeans, his shirt open at the neck to reveal just a hint of dark curly chest hair. 

Jim sighed. They had been friends since college and had even tried being lovers but realized, early on, that it wasn't meant to be. However, that didn't mean that Jim couldn't still lust after his best friend on occasion. 

"Hey, Simon." 

The taller man finished pulling on his gloves then leaned against the rail, next to Jim. "So, what's so fascinating out here?" 

"Nothing much. I'm just watching the guys check out the grounds." 

"Worried about the competition?" 

Jim shrugged his shoulders. "What's to worry? I'll either draw a good bull or I won't. I'll either have a good ride or I won't. I can only give it my best and walk away." 

"That's the most important thing, my friend. As I've always said, any bull ride you can walk away from..." 

"...is a good bull ride." Jim finished, nodding his head. Simon had given up bull riding a few years ago after being thrown and trampled. Now he rode broncos, which, the other man was quick to point out, only looked safer. 

"You'll do good, Junior. Don't sweat it." 

Jim chuckled. Although only a year older, Simon never tired of calling him 'Junior'. 

"Speaking of 'Junior', who's the little guy?" A nod of his head indicated the other end of the arena. 

Simon stretched his neck, finally spotting the small man with the straw hat atop a bandana-covered head, red, white and blue makeup covering his entire face. 

"That little guy, " he said, smiling, "is The Professor." 

"The Professor?" 

"Yeah. Smart kid. Has his Masters in Archeology or something and he's working on his Doctorate." 

"So what's he doing here?' 

"Hey," Simon shrugged. "Maybe he's got bills to pay." 

Jim watched as the young man in question climbed into a barrel and virtually disappeared, the shock-absorbing container being almost as tall as he. 

"Yeah, well, let him earn his college money with somebody else." Jim didn't notice the cold, hard stare his friend directed his way. "When I jump off my ride, I want a real bullfighter out there protecting my ass." 

"Your dumb ass and fat head better pray he's out there when you need him." Simon pushed off the fence and walked away. 

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jim shouted at his retreating friend. 

Simon kept on walking, his reply shouted over his shoulder. "Just go pick your bull, Junior." 

<><><><><>

Forty-five minutes later Jim was in his gear, heading for the pens. Running a kerchief over his short-cropped hair, his mind should have been on his ride and the bull he'd drawn. But, instead, he was thinking of Simon. Jim didn't know what he'd said but he knew Simon was angry. He was determined to find his friend and apologize. Hopefully, he would also find out what he'd said wrong. 

He spotted the taller man over by the pens, watching the wranglers prepare the bulls. Moving closer, he rested against the fence and waited for Simon to speak. 

"So, who did you draw?" Simon asked after a moment, his eyes following the wranglers, not looking at Jim. 

"Nitro." 

Simon nodded. "Good bull." 

"That's what I heard." 

Another moment passed. "He'll give you a good ride." Simon offered. "He's strong, likes to circle left." 

"Thanks for the tip." 

Simon shrugged. "Like I said...good bull. Not mean, like some." 

Sensing that Simon had something on his mind, Jim waited. And watched. And listened. Simon's heart was beating faster that normal and Jim could see tiny beads of sweat along his brow. Whatever was on Simon's mind wasn't something pleasant. 

"Rampage was mean." 

Now Jim understood his friend's anxiety. Rampage was the beast that ended Simon's bull-riding career. Jim watched Simon reach inside his vest and pull out a cigar, rolling it in his fingers and studying the wrapper. 

"I never told you about it, did I?" 

"Nope." 

Simon nodded slowly, as if making a decision, then continued. "I was feeling really good that day and when I drew Rampage I thought 'I am ready'. I remember the feel of him as I settled onto his back. He was all coiled muscle, an unyielding power just waiting to break loose. I knew if I could stay on him for the 8 seconds I'd have myself a winner. So I got set, yelled 'Go' and the gate opened. And he exploded from the chute." 

Simon stared off across the pens as he spoke, the cigar still moving back and forth in his fingers. "Everything seemed to move in slow motion. He started to turn left and I leaned into it. Then he snapped back to the right and I was flying off. But my hand got caught in the ropes and I was hung up, banging into his side every time he moved. And, believe me, he moved. All he wanted was to throw me off. 

The bullfighters were all around me trying to distract the beast while I was fighting to get my hand free. But that animal was determined and pissed." Simon took a deep breath in an effort to stay calm. 

"After what seemed like forever I felt something give in my hand and suddenly I was tumbling across the ground. But before I could be thankful for getting loose, he was on top of me. Like I said, he was mean. I tried to get away but he just kept coming. Stomping me with his feet, crushing me with his head, he was determined to drive me into the dirt. The fighters were doing their best to distract him but he was one focused sonofabitch." 

Simon's voice was almost a whisper as he continued. "Then, from out of nowhere, he was there...The Professor. He covered me with his body and kept telling me it was going to be all right. I blacked out after that but the other guys...they told me what happened next." 

Simon shook his head as if, even now, he couldn't believe the story. 

"They don't know how he managed to do it but he got himself between me and that bull. And the bull didn't stop. After a few seconds The Professor began crawling away, trying to draw the bull's attention. It worked but now the bull was focused on him and he was already hurting. The other fighters were still trying to distract the animal but The Professor just kept yelling at them to get me out of the ring. A few of them carried me out while the others tried to grab the kid and get the bull through the gate. Eventually they did." 

Simon looked at the now mangled cigar in his hand then tossed it on the ground in disgust. The memories of that day still managed to tear him apart inside. He took a deep breath and, for the first time since the conversation started, he turned to face Jim. 

"I woke up in the hospital a few hours later. My hand, a few ribs and my left leg were busted. My right shoulder was dislocated and I was bruised everywhere else. But a few weeks in the hospital and I'd be back to normal. The Professor wasn't so lucky. 

He was in a coma for two weeks with a skull fracture. And that wasn't the worst of it. His back was broken and the doctors weren't sure if he'd ever walk again. But a week after waking up, he was recovering from back surgery and starting physical therapy. 

I went to visit him, you know, to say thank you. But somehow that didn't seem like enough. So I started helping him with his therapy. Jim, I watched that kid fight the pain everyday, just trying to take a step." 

With eyes bright and focused completely on Jim's face, Simon shook his head to drive home his point. "And you know... he never gave up, never got depressed, never complained. Not once. One day I asked him why he did it, the whole 'bullfighter' thing. And do you know what he said? 'Because I can, Simon.' " 

The taller man pushed himself away from the fence and began to walk away. After a few steps he stopped and turned to face his friend. 

"That young man almost died that day saving my sorry ass and I'm damn glad he was out there. So, before you dismiss 'the little guy', think about that." 

Jim watched his friend walk away and considered his words. 'Maybe I should give the kid a break. And thank him for saving my friend.' 

<><><><><>

The noise was deafening. The lights were too bright. The odor from the pens was nauseating. 

Jim closed his eyes and tried to take a deep calming breath. The crowd was cheering, the loudspeakers were broadcasting results, and Jim's hearing seemed to enhance every sound. Shaking his head Jim tried to get his senses under control. 

He was next to the last competitor and his chances were looking good. Only one of the previous riders had managed to stay on his bull for the required 8 seconds and, even then, his score wasn't very high. If he could just stay on Nitro, he could win this thing. 

With a final tug of his leather gloves he climbed the fence and stopped, perched over the beast he would soon have to control. Eighteen hundred pounds of solid Texas Longhorn, the chocolate colored animal's look was deceptive. White markings covered his face, giving him an almost innocent expression, reminding Jim of something you'd see in a children's book. But Jim knew better. This bull was strong and powerful, with a definite attitude. He was not some farmer's pet that you let your kids get near. 

Then there were the horns. This beast was the epitome of why the breed was called 'longhorn'. Twenty inches of solid spike extended from each side of the animal's head. Even though the tips had been blunted, they were still dangerous weapons. Weapons this animal wasn't afraid to use. 

Wranglers and other cowboys were working the beast, keeping him calm, checking ropes, trying to make this a safe ride for both the animal and Jim. Simon, whose competition wasn't until much later in the day, was there to lend support. As Jim lowered himself onto the animal, Simon was shouting encouragement. 

"Just ride him easy, Jim. But let him know who's in control." 

Adjusting his seat, Jim laughed. "Yeah, well, we may differ in opinion on that one, my friend." He began to wrap the braided rope around his hand and weave it through his fingers. Closing his hand tight, punching it down, he virtually tied himself to the large animal's back. As long as he kept his hand closed, he should be able to hang on. But the rope was wrapped in such a way that, at the first sign of trouble, Jim could release it and escape. 

The crowd was hushed in anticipation. The bull was getting jumpy. Jim took a deep breath, then another, in preparation. With a smile at Simon, Jim pushed his white hat down on his head and, with a nod, yelled "Now" and the chute opened. 

The crowed cheered but Jim heard nothing. Concentrating on the power between his legs, attempting to anticipate the animal's moves, Jim tried to count down the seconds. 

Jumping and bucking, slamming Jim with every motion, twisting one way then another, the bull tried everything it knew to get this man off his back. But the beast had nothing on this bull-headed cowboy. 

'Just hang on, just hang on' kept repeating in Jim's mind as each jolt sent electric-like pain through his body. Remembering to keep his free hand high, he listened for the one sound that would bring this to an end. 

Finally, the buzzer sounded and the crowed let out a roar. He had made the time. Then, just as he released his hand and prepared to jump, the bull bucked with a surge of power that sent Jim flying thirty feet into the air only to land hard in the dirt of the arena. 

He lay still for a second before instinct kicked in, screaming at him to move. He rolled himself to his knees then pushed himself to stand. That's when everything went haywire. Still stunned by the landing, his vision seemed to spin and the sounds of the crowd blared painfully. Just as suddenly everything seemed to come back to normal. But, as Jim straightened, all sensory input, even the noise of the cheering crowd faded away to nothing. 

Unbeknownst to Jim, a race had begun. The bull saw the target of his annoyance and charged. The bullfighter saw the cowboy freeze and, with one glance at the charging bull, made his decision. Breaking into a full run, he leaped, tackling the cowboy around the waist and knocking him back to the ground. 

Surprised to find himself once again in the dirt, Jim registered the arm around his waist, the warm body wrapped around his back, the smell of adrenaline and a heartbeat that was strangely soothing. Then he heard someone shout "get him out of here!" and he felt hands grip him under each arm and drag him toward the gate. He shook his head, trying to clear it as he tried to get his feet under him. 

As he stumbling to the exit, with the help of the two men around him, Jim heard the crowd gasp. Twisting around, trying to see the action behind him, Jim saw a splash of color sail through the air. But before he could register what was happening, he was rushed through the gate and out of the arena. 

<><><><><>

He had won the first round of the bull riding. The second and final round was tomorrow but Jim wouldn't be able to compete. 

He sat alone outside the infirmary, his head in his hands, his mind focused on one thought. 

'It was over.' 

There was no other choice. He just couldn't risk it. He could have been killed in that arena today. And who else was he putting in danger, being out there like that? He thought it might have been Simon who'd tackled him but whoever it was had risked himself to save Jim. 

All because of these damned blackouts. In the past few weeks, along with episodes when his senses would go haywire, he'd suffered a couple of .........time losses. He didn't know what else to call them. All he knew was something would seem too bright, smell too strong, or sound too loud and he'd be gone. 

The sights and sounds around him had finally returned to normal levels but for how long he didn't know. Was he losing his mind? He told himself definitely not but there were times when he wasn't quite sure. How else could he explain it? He saw things no normal person could see, heard things no normal person could hear. What else could it be? 

Preoccupied by the possibility of losing his mind, Jim failed to hear his best friend approach. Simon was just as startled when he slapped the younger man on the shoulder and Jim jumped to his feet in surprise. 

"Hey, Jim. Everything all right?" 

"Yeah, Simon. I'm fine." Jim slouched back onto the bench and gave Simon a crooked smile. "Takes more than a bull and a knock on the head to keep me down." 

Simon sat next to his friend. "Well it scared the shit out of me, I'll tell you. I thought Nitro had you for sure!" 

Jim turned to face the other man. "Why? What happened?" 

"You really were out of it, weren't you?" Receiving no comment, Simon shook his head. "The buzzer sounded and you went flying through the air. You hit the ground hard, my friend." 

"That part I remember, Simon." 

"Yeah, well. I thought they were going to have to carry you out of that ring. But you got to your feet so I figured everything was fine. Then you froze. I yelled at you to get out of there but ... nothing. I was about to climb the fence to get you when the bull charged." Simon shook his head again. "I thought you were a goner, man. There was no way I could get to you before that bull did." 

"Well, if you didn't grab me, who did?" 

"The Professor." 

"What?" Jim exclaimed in shock. That skinny little kid was the one to save his neck? He couldn't believe it. He didn't even know Jim. 

"Yep." Simon nodded. "With a flying tackle like that, he should play pro football. He knocked you out of the way then took off running. He distracted that bull long enough for the other guys to drag you out of the ring." 

Suddenly Jim remembered the gasp of the crowd and the flash of color flying through the air. "Simon ... did he get hurt?" 

Simon looked at his friend's face, seeing honest concern in the pale blue eyes. "Not too bad. The bull caught him and gave him a toss, but he came out of it OK. Just a bump on the head." 

Jim stood up and began to pace. "Why would he do that, Simon? I don't even know him. Hell, considering the things I was saying about him earlier..." 

"He doesn't know about that, Jim." Simon placed his hand on Jim's shoulder, stopping his motion. "And even if he did, he wouldn't care. His job is to keep the bull riders safe. Even pig-headed ones like you." 

Jim turned to face his friend. "Where is he, Simon? I have to see him ... to thank him, at least." 

Simon nodded, understanding the younger man's need. "He should be in the makeup truck, over there." With a nod of his head Simon indicated the collection of trailers on the other side of the back stage area. 

"Thanks." Jim started to walk away then stopped and turned. "Oh, Simon...good luck with your ride." 

"Don't worry about me, Junior." Simon said, with a wave of his hand. "Just go talk to The Professor." 

<><><><><>

Jim made his way through the maze of trailers, passing other riders and cowboys he didn't recognize, all congratulating him on his ride. Finally he spotted a trailer with a sign on the side that said "MAKEUP" and headed for the door, stepping to the side just as two cowboys came down the metal steps. 

"Hey, Ellison" one of the men greeted him, hand extended. "Nice ride." 

Jim shook the offered hand, recognizing the guy as one of the bullfighters that had pulled him from the ring. "Thanks, man. And thanks for getting me out of there." 

"No problem," the second man said, slapping Jim on the back. "We did the easy part. The Professor's the one who distracted the bull." 

"That's what I heard. I'm actually here looking for him. I wanted to thank him, you know." 

"Sure, man. He's inside." The first cowboy indicated the door. "Go on in." 

"OK, thanks." Jim nodded. "And thanks again, for the save." 

With a wave the two cowboys walked away and Jim climbed the steps. He paused at the door, taking a deep breath. He felt nervous, almost excited with anticipation, and he didn't understand why. With another deep breath he opened the door and stepped inside. 

The only occupant of the trailer was sitting at a makeup table, shirtless, his back towards Jim. Gone was the hat and bandana, allowing dark brown curls to flow past naked shoulders. The lights surrounding the mirror brought out the red and gold highlights and Jim felt himself going blank as he seemed to zero in on the individual strands, the desire to touch the silken tresses almost overpowering. 

"Hey...Jim Ellison, isn't it?" 

The soothing calm of the voice washed over him, comforting him and drawing him back to the present. He blinked, looking at the young man who was turning to face him, hand extended. As Jim automatically reached out, he was caught in the gaze of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. Like the voice, they were soothing and comforting and Jim felt something inside him 'click' as if he'd finally found his home. Stunned by the sense of belonging and a growing desire, Jim was surprised to feel a touch as the other man took his hand. 

"I'm Blair Sandburg." 

Suddenly everything around him felt 'normal' as the voice washed over him again. Clearing his throat, he answered. "Blair...nice to meet you. I'm Jim." 

"Well, Jim. Sit down and make yourself comfortable while I take this gunk off my face." 

Jim smiled at the face still covered in make-up. That is, except for his forehead, which bore a white bandage that barely covered a fresh bruise. 

"How's the head?" Jim asked as Blair turned back to the mirror. Jim's eyes slid down the muscular back, his fingers itching just to touch. 

"Oh, this?" Blair fingered the bandage as he smiled at Jim's reflection. "It's fine...really" He chuckled self-consciously "I just zigged when I should have zagged. It's no big deal." 

"Well, I'll tell you, it's a big deal to me. You saved my ass out there today and I want you to know I appreciate it." 

"That's what they pay me for, Big Guy." Blair picked up a jar of cold cream and began rubbing it on his face. 

"Let me ask you something..." Jim saw the questioning look on the face in the mirror as Blair stopped his actions. "You're a smart guy, right? Working on your Doctorate in Archeology? So tell me, why do you do this?" 

"I do this, Jim, because I..." 

"And don't give me that 'because I can' line, ok? What's that supposed to mean, anyway?" 

Blair smiled and shook his head as he picked up a towel and began wiping his hands. "You've been talking to Simon, haven't you? To begin with, its Anthropology not Archeology...Simon can never keep them straight. As for this..." He locked eyes with Jim's reflection in the mirror and saw the determination on his face. He could tell that this man was a straight shooter, wanting, no...needing a truthful answer. Blair decided to give it to him. 

"I saw my first rodeo when I was six years old. I was visiting my cousins in Texas and, man, I was hooked. I wanted nothing more than to be a cowboy." Blair gave a little laugh and shook his head. "But look at me, man. I'm not big enough to ride bulls. I don't have the upper body strength it takes to control them. And can you see me trying to wrapped these legs around a bronco?" 

The only thing Jim could envision was Blair's legs wrapped around him, as he pounded into the younger man, both of them writhing in pleasure. Jim shook his head to clear that image and shifted his stance, trying to accommodate his suddenly engorged cock. Luckily, Blair didn't appear to notice as he continued his story. 

"And without these," Blair picked up the wire-framed glasses that were lying on the table. "I couldn't rope a dead elephant, let alone a running calf." As he placed the glasses back on the table, his expression became serious. 

"But I'm fast and agile. I can run and jump and tumble as good, or better, than anyone out there. I may not be able to ride the bulls but I can protect the cowboys that do. And I take that job very seriously." Blair picked up the towel and began wiping the cream and makeup off his face, using the time to calm himself. He didn't understand why he'd revealed so much of himself to this virtual stranger but somehow, it felt right. 

A hand on his shoulder sent a jolt of energy through his body, momentarily taking his breath away. Who was this man? 

"Well, I'm glad you do, Chief. I'd be dead right now, if it wasn't for you and...well...a simple 'thank you' doesn't seem nearly enough." 

Blair wiped the towel one last time across his face then, placing it on the table, turned to face this tall stranger. "There is something you could do." 

Jim looked at the face shining up at him and gasped. 

This man was absolutely beautiful. 

There wasn't anything feminine about his face, especially considering the five o'clock shadow that was beginning to make an appearance. But there was something about the combination of those crystal blue eyes, the high cheekbones and the full lips just begging to be kissed that made Jim realize that he'd give this man anything. 

"Wh..." Jim cleared his throat and tried again. "What?" 

"Tell me what happened out there." 

Jim continued to stare at the face before him until he felt the pressure of Blair's hand on his arm. Then, almost as if he had no choice, he began to tell this longhaired 'kid' what he hadn't told anyone before...the truth. 

"I don't really know, Chief. When I hit the ground I felt overwhelmed. Everything got so bright and the dirt on my hands felt like sandpaper. As I stood up the crowd seemed painfully loud and then...nothing. The next thing I knew someone had knocked me to the ground then a couple of guys were hustling me out of the arena." 

Blair studied the taller man's face as he tried to contain his excitement. Could this be for real? Could he have found him at last? 

"Has this happened to you before?" 

Jim nodded. "A few times." 

"When did it begin?" 

Jim continued to stare at the beautiful face, memorizing every contour, wanting nothing more than to reach out and touch those waiting lips. 

"Jim?" 

"A few weeks ago, I think. I left Arizona and decided to do a bit of camping as I made my way up here. I spent a week in Cascade National Park...just the trees, the wildlife and me. As I got back to the city I noticed that everything sounded louder, almost painfully so. Since then I've had moments when everything seems to flare up and the next thing I know, I've lost minutes, sometimes hours. I think...I think I may be going crazy." 

Blair stood up, bringing him closer to the taller man, his hand still resting on Jim's arm. "You are definitely not crazy, man. I think I know what's up with you and I may be able to help." Blair smiled as the pale blue eye played across his face. "But I have to ask you a few questions. OK?" 

Jim nodded distractedly as his hand reached out to caress the younger man's cheek. 

Blair swallowed, Jim's touch making his throat suddenly dry. "How...how good is your sight?" 

"I can see your pulse in the tiny vein...right here." Jim traced his fingers behind Blair's ear and down his neck. 

Blair could barely remember his questions, his body and mind seeming to focus solely on Jim Ellison. He quietly cleared his throat and asked "And how much can you hear?" 

Jim's other hand came up to rest on Blair's other cheek, his thumbs tracing the line of the younger man's nose. "I can hear your heart pounding. I can hear the blood rushing through your veins." 

"Touch?" Blair's voice came out in a whisper 

"I can feel the heat coming off your body." Jim took Blair's face in both his hands. "I can feel you trembling." 

"Sm...smell?" 

"I can smell your desire..." 

"Taste?" 

Jim brought their lips together, savoring the sweet, salty taste that was unique to this one person, a taste that would be forever imprinted on his soul. 

Blair. 

Drinking in a flavor that seemed to enrich his very being, Jim began to feel overwhelmed and broke the kiss. He smiled as he looked at the face in his hands, the skin flushed, lips trembling, eyes sparkling with desire. 

"I taste lettuce, tomatoes, orange and..." he sampled the lips again "...pears. Then there's mint...like toothpaste but lighter, almost organic. And underneath all that..." He kissed Blair again. "...I taste you." 

Blair brought his arms up to drape them around Jim's neck, bringing their bodies together. He watched Jim's eyes as the other man registered the feel of the hard cock pressing against his stomach. Seeing the desire returned Blair guided Jim's head down to capture his lips. This time it was Blair who did the exploring, mapping the other man's mouth with his tongue, experiencing the taste of the man that Blair realized was the other half of his soul. 

A moan escaped him and Blair broke the kiss but did not release the embrace. He wanted this man, more than he'd ever wanted anyone in his life. But this was about more than lust or magnetism or whatever it was bringing them together. This was about helping this man regain control of his life. 

Blair stepped back slightly, moving their bodies apart but staying in the circle of Jim's arms. Taking the taller man's face in his hands, he smiled up at the pale blue eyes. 

"I can help you, Jim. It will take time but, with some work, I can teach you to control these gifts." 

"You can, can you?" Jim smiled, pulling the smaller body against his again. "And why would you want to do that?" 

"Simply, man." Blair answered, his eyes sparkling with delight. 

"Because I can." 

<><><><><>

The End 

* * *

End Because I Can by Shamaness: brianna441@aol.com  
Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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